Criss Cross
by squarey
Summary: A look at Bobby when he was working narcotics. A criss cross with the events we learned about in Amends. ...I'm in a strange end of the year mood.
1. The set up

"Hold on, hold on, hold on." I call as I pull a t-shirt over my head and struggle into some pajama pants. I'm doing all this as I slide toward the door. I just rinsed off in a shower. My skin is still damp, so it isn't exactly easy to wriggle into the cotton clothes.

"Open up, NYPD," the pounding continues. My breath freezes in my chest. I stand on the inside of my door not certain what to do. "We know you're home, we talked to your super. Now do us a favor Ms. Williams – just answer your door."

I take a deep breath and do as the voice commands, cautiously opening my door. "Um," I stammer, "could you um, tell me what's going on?" I ask, trying hard to keep my expression cool, neutral.

"Yeah," the tall detective on my doorstep grumbles. I look around the hallway and don't see any other police present. "Why'd you take so damn long to open the door?" He steps into my place, picking me up in his arms. As he walks me backward across the floor, he kicks my door closed with his left foot.

"I was in the shower, detective," I smile, giggling as he tickles my ribs. He's also kissing me along my neck, ticking me with his tongue behind my ear.

"A shame you spent all that energy getting dressed," he murmurs. He sets me back onto my feet, stripping off my pants first and my t-shirt next.

"A terrible shame," I reply. I go to work on his shirt and then his belt. I watch him toss his weapon and badge onto a nearby table. Badge number 4376. Easy to remember, same as my phone number.

* * *

"So detective, I thought you weren't going to show." We're in my bed, I'm on my side propped on my elbow, using my free hand to trace delicate lines across his chest, his ribs - my turn to tickle him. I watch him smile, struggling to suppress the urge to squirm away from my feathery touch.

"Is that why you took a shower without me?" He looks at me, trying his best to keep his deep set brown eyes serious.

"I'd given up on you," I continue to glide my fingers along his skin, trying to get him to laugh, but he's still master of his senses.

"Don't ever give up on me, Evie," he grabs me softly, quickly flipping me over onto my back.

"Seriously Bobby," I say, concerned about all the over time hours he's been keeping. He's explained to me before that Narcotics isn't exactly a day job, but in the few months we've been seeing each other he usually manages to at least tag me by phone if he's going to be late. These past two weeks, my phone has been strangely silent and he's gotten in the habit of simply showing up.

"Same case, we're coming close…" he mumbles through the kisses his raining across my collar bone. I close my eyes, but I don't let him off the hook that easily.

"Minaya," I say the drug dealers name, I remember Bobby mentioning it in passing.

"Yeah, Minaya. We've got him, as long as Homicide doesn't screw it up," he runs his thumbs down my sides, moving them up and swiftly underneath my breasts. My brain manages to barely string together what he's just said. It explains his wild hours. Narcotics is trying to get the jump on Homicide, to get the bust on their sheet instead of letting Homicide take the credit.

"And for now, I've got you," I use my weight to roll him over onto his back, straddling his lean hips. "You have the right to remain silent," I whisper as I lean forward to softly kiss him. I can feel his lips smile beneath mine.


	2. cover me

Bobby sits sprawled on a chair in his Lieutenant's office. The two other narcotics detectiveshelping with the Minaya case, Barnes and Ruiz, remain at their desks. Bobby is point person on the case, so he's taking it alone from the Lieutenant.

"I don't know what kind of pissing contest you have going over Minaya, but I don't want my fucking phone ringing about it anymore. Solve it."

Bobby nods, and pushes himself to standing. He doesn't want to press it with the Lieutenant. For now the order is to solve it. To Bobby that means that it can still work out to be a collar for Narcotics. The two homicide detectives trying to bust Minaya are trying to get him to flip against another gang member and serve as witness to a shooting that involves the murder of a mother and her 8 year old son. Bobby sees why the homicide detectives are determined to get Minaya and get him to flip, but at the same time the case that Narcotics has against Minaya will not only flip him against the gang member who was the shooter in the murder case, but also get him to flip information that will close a few other cases. Bobby rationalizes theirs is the larger case, they will have more leverage, and that the collar should be with Narcotics.

"What'd the Lieu say?" Ruiz is the first to speak.

"He said solve it," Bobby smiles enigmatically.

"Did he say how?" Barnes follows along, but just wants to be clear.

"Nope," Bobby shrugs.

"They've gotta see," Ruiz refers to the homicide detectives. "If we make our case, we've made theirs as well," Ruiz stands, looking at the clock over Bobby's shoulder. It's 2 hours past their shift and Ruiz has a shiny new wife he wants to get home to.

"You'd think," Bobby hopes they'll see it, get the bigger picture. "I'll have another run at Quinn. He seems like a reasonable enough guy." Bobby watches Barnes start to gather his things. "I don't need any help," Bobby adds, half way joking, because it's clear that both Barnes and Ruiz are calling it a day.

"Didn't think you would," Barnes shrugs into his coat as he heads out the door.

* * *

Bobby walks into the bar just a few blocks from Quinn's precinct house. Quinn has a wife at home, but she's not so shiny anymore like with Ruiz, so Bobby knows that Quinn usually stops off for a beer or two and unwinds after shift. He's thinking that he's probably in time to catch the detective. He doesn't know much about the partner Dutton. He's heard that they're both good police. He's counting on the fact that once he lays his cards on the table, they'll come around and back off.

"A little far from home aren't ya Goren?" Quinn remarks as Bobby takes the vacant barstool next to Quinn.

"Got lost," Bobby replies, ordering himself a beer, offering to order Quinn another. The homicide detective nods and accepts.

"The beers pretty good here, but I'd expect the beers just as good in your part of town," Quinn takes a sip of the beer the bartender just placed in front of him. Bobby takes of his own.

"I'm here for the company," Bobby admits.

"You're here for the Minaya case," Quinn cuts to the chase.

"Yeah," Bobby takes another long sip of his beer, "yeah I am. My lieu said to solve it, so I'm here to do that."

"Solve it how?"

"We've got enough against Minaya to flip him as a witness in your homicide case and use him in a few of ours," Bobby reveals.

"Is that so?" Quinn asks, giving Bobby a sidelong look, "when's your case gonna make?" Bobby realizes with frustration that Quinn and Dutton have orders to close this case quickly, and that's why they're not playing ball with Narcotics.

"A week," Bobby guesses, "we'll bust him in a week."

"We've got him inside of 3 days. We've got the set up in place." Quinn is almost finished with his beer, and Bobby guesses he's also almost finished with this conversation.

"We've got this. Can you give us the week," Bobby watches Quinn place his empty glass on the bar.

"I don't have that week to give," Quinn again eludes to something higher involved in the case. Quinn stands and makes to leave.

"Give me a day before you push this further," Bobby asks, thinking that maybe he can figure out the political angle and get his week and get this away from Quinn and Dutton.

"I'll see what I can do," Quinn replies. Bobby stays at the bar to finish his beer, and finish a few more. He's got no idea what he's going to get done in a day. He's got some favors he can pull in. He just needs the time to see if they ripple far enough to get him the week to get Minaya.

* * *

*(_switch POV to Evie_ :)*

At first, I can't quite figure out what I hear - someone shouting out front of my building. It's only 4 floors high, I live on the third. I cross to my apartment window.

"Hey, Stella!" No mistaking what I hear. I look out the window to see Bobby standing on the sidewalk. "Hey, Stella!" He repeats. I laugh and slide my window open.

"You quit that howling down there and go to bed," I cannot resist playing the part. He laughs as well. I watch him run his hand through his wiry curls. He's wearing a dark pants and a dark shirt. I can see his white undershirt peeking through at the collar. He looks incredible.

"Put on that red dress of yours and get your dancing shoes," he slips out of character and issues the command as Bobby. "It's early, lets go out." I glance at the clock. By early he means early in the morning. It's just after 1:00am.

"Stella!" He starts again, making me smile. I hold up my hands, signaling 5 minutes. I shrug into the a-line dress and grab my favorite shoes. I'm coming down the stairs toward the sidewalk and I cannot help but smile as he falls to his knees. So, like the infamous scene, I wilt over him. As he stands he lifts me off my feet, mumbling against me, kissing my neck "don't ever leave me baby" and walks with me down the street. I dissolve into laughter.

He sets me down on the corner and hails a cab. He's feeling playful, I can tell he's had a few beers. When the cab pulls over, with great flourish he opens the door and sweeps me in. He gives the driver the address of my favorite salsa club. He really is in the mood for dancing.

As we enter the club, I notice Alfred Minaya leaning against the outside wall. I start to rethink his being in the mood for simply dancing. Bobby is rarely in the mood for keeping things simple. I cover my question by kissing his ear, "are you using me for cover?" My mother's maiden name is Morales. Just like his last name, my dad is a button-downed guy. But, he worships my mom. Her side of the family throws huge backyard parties with fabulous food and music and dancing. So, I think I've been salsa dancing since before I could walk.

"I'd like to use you for cover," he murmurs the words suggestively as he catches my mouth in a kiss. It is not lost on me he's using the kiss to obstruct Minaya's view of him.

Once in the club he swings me immediately out onto the dance floor. I'm surprised by how well a white guy from Canarsie can dance. Bobby is a spectacular partner, rotating around me, keeping his pelvis in sync with my own. I watch him scan the club, taking an inventory of the people on the dance floor, the ones lingering near the bar, the ones lingering near the door – near Minaya.

"You are, you are using me for cover," I whisper into his ear, he kisses me again, leaving me breathless. "Your powers of distraction are not going to work," I try to reply, but really they are going to work. The way he is moving against me, how his hands at times are softly on my ass, the feel of his lips against my neck, I completely lose track of time.

When we leave the club, it's just after 4:00am. I watch his eyes flick toward Minaya. He takes a special interest in a sandy-haired white guy talking seriously with the drug dealer. Again he expertly uses me for cover by ducking down to kiss me on my neck. I think about what he said earlier, the suggestive way he said that he'd like to use me for cover. So, for now, I let it go and let him take me home.


	3. playing angles

This morning, bright and early for Bobby is actually 10 minutes late. He's exhausted from staying out all night. He's not twenty-something anymore and he needs at least a little bit of sleep.

"Jesus Christ Goren, you look like hell," Barnes walks up holding a cup of coffee. And, even though it's the hideous brew from the break room, Bobby can't take his mind off the liquid hot caffeine.

"And you look like a ray of sunshine," Bobby replies, somewhat surly in his tone.

"Up all night with that delicious Evie chick?" Barnes ignores Bobby's snotty retort and plows ahead with conversation.

"More like up all night watching Minaya," Bobby starts to head toward the breakroom. He's got to get something in his system to keep him awake. Barnes trails after him.

"So how'd you go about that?" Barnes imagines Bobby sitting in his dilapidated old Mustang that he keeps saying he's fixing up covertly watching Minaya.

"I went to the club," Bobby pours a large cup of coffee and drowns it with sugar, figuring he needs the sugar high as well as the caffeine to kick start the day.

"You went to the club…" Barnes sputters, spitting some of his hot coffee onto his shirt.

"Be careful Barnes, that's pretty hot," Bobby refers to the coffee stains on the other detective's shirt.

"Not as hot as Evie," Barnes astutely makes the connection that Bobby likely took to the club, "who you used for cover at that club last night I bet." Bobby almost imperceptibly nods just as Ruiz walks in.

"You used Evie for cover?" Ruiz picks up on the conversation.

"I'd like to use her for cover," Barnes twists the words around. Bobby realizes that particular joke just got old, very old, as he imagines Barnes trying to make the moves on Evie.

"Dutton was with Minaya - about 4:00am this morning," Bobby brings everyone back to the case at hand. "Dutton wasn't playing cop, looked like he was undercover playing buyer."

"Oh Christ," Barnes mumbles, "those homicide detectives are jumping this case."

"They didn't bust him," Bobby remarks, he looked up last night's busts to make certain. "They're setting him up for something bigger than just a penny-ante street buy. I ran into Quinn last night, he mentioned they hoped to bust Minaya in the next 72 hours."

"Busy, busy boy. Running into Quinn. Watching Minaya. Not to mention Evie…" Barnes says as he finishes the last of his coffee. Bobby doesn't address the last part of Barnes comment. He focuses on Quinn and Minaya.

"Quinn said that there was a clock ticking on busting Minaya. They need to do it quickly, they need to close their murder case. So we either need to figure out how to pause that clock, or we need to make our case before Homicide makes theirs."

"My snitch is solid," Ruiz chimes in. "The shipment isn't for another 6 days. When we've got Minaya with that shipment, we've got what we need."

"We don't have 6 days," Bobby replies, "so let me see if I can figure out who's putting the thumbscrews to Dutton and Quinn and is running the clock to flip Minaya."

* * *

Bobby's first phone call is to Lieutenant Jimmy Deakins. In the past few years, there's been overlap with Deakins squad and Bobby's work in narcotics. Deakins is discreet and politically wired. So, if anyone can figure out who's running the clock on solving this homicide, its Deakins.

"Hey Lieu, its Bobby Goren," Bobby leans forward on his desk, his forehead in the palm of his hand.

"Hey Goren, what's going on. Narcotics got something for me today?" Bobby can hear Deakin's smile in his voice.

"No, it's more the other way around…" Bobby fills Deakins in on what's going on.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard about that case. Kenny Moran is pulling the strings on this one. He's paying forward a favor to some political type who's somehow related to the victims." Bobby's fingers tense around his forehead over the name Kenny Moran. There's no budging Moran.

"Right, right…" Bobby mumbles.

"So, when are you gonna transfer over and work with me?" Deakins kids, well, half-way kids with Bobby.

"I'm happy in Narcotics, just hitting my stride here," Bobby replies, trying to relax a bit. He needs to figure out a different angle on this Minaya thing. One that doesn't involve attempting to reach out to Moran. One that he realizes is not going to come to him when he's slumped forward on his desk hand on his forehead like a vice.

"Yeah, well, when you're done with your stride, you know how to find me," Deakins adds.

"Yeah, thanks Lieu, and thanks for the info."

"Anytime Goren."

"What's up?" Ruiz asks as he saunters over.

"What?" Bobby is still trying to shift gears.

"Well you got someplace with that phone call," Ruiz observes. Bobby looks at him questioningly, knowing that he kept his voice low so no one would overhear. "Your head's hanging in your hands, so it can't be good," Ruiz continues, revealing to Bobby the tell. Bobby rocks back in his chair, making a mental note to stop gripping his forehead when he's getting bad news.

"Moran – he's holding the clock on this," Bobby shakes his head.

"We need a new angle," Ruiz replies, he knows the drill with Moran.

"Yeah, yeah we do," Bobby stands up from his chair. "Let's find Barnes, and let's get some coffee," But maybe not in that order, Bobby thinks to himself. We're going to have to find a way to escalate our case and let Quinn and Dutton know we can make the bust within their clock."

* * *

*(_switch POV to Evie_ :)*

"Playing all the angles?" I walk into the bar just before midnight. Busy day, so I didn't even get a chance to check my voice mail and listen to Bobby's message until after 11:00. Bobby's playing 9-ball, by himself I think. I look around. No one else is near the table.

"What?" he jumps, blows the shot. I can see his frustration in the lines of his face. He takes a deep breath, and I let him focus on me. Whatever he's thinking about, he's clearly not expecting me to be the one standing behind him with the snarky remark. "I was playing Barnes," he gestures with the pool stick over toward the bar where Barnes is making time with some blonde.

"I guess some things trump pool," I smile.

"Nothing should ever come between a man and the 9-ball," he smiles, visibly relaxes a bit. I watch him chalk his cue.

"Nothing?" I move toward the table, my back pressing against his chest, "well then you should show me how to play." I rub my backside against his frontside, a seductive invitation. He wraps his arms around me, and arranges the pool stick in my hands. He uses his arms and hands to move mine, and we sink the 6-ball.

"Like you said, it's all about angles," he whispers huskily into my ear, his hand purposefully brushing against my breast as he repositions the pool stick.

"It always is," I wiggle my backside against his frontside. I can hear him moan and shift. We blow the 7-ball and nearly scratch. He rarely misses the angles.

"You're going to have to focus on the game," he's standing behind me kissing my neck, he's not at all focused on the game.

"So last night, that guy, he was at the club," I say.

"Dutton?" he's still kissing my neck, moving toward my ear. I hadn't meant Dutton. I'd meant Minaya. I recognize the name Dutton. Bobby's mentioned him earlier in the week. He's the homicide detective, works with Quinn, somehow they are tangled up in this case. "I can't figure out the angles on this case. I think it's gonna go to Dutton and Quinn," he stops kissing me for a moment, wraps himself around me, positions my hands around the pool stick, and together we make the 7-ball that we missed a moment ago. My shoulder hurts a bit from the force of the pool stroke. Clearly he's not happy with the direction of things at work. I keep quiet as in quick succession he uses me to make the 8-ball. "I've got no fucking clue why homicide detectives are under cover making narcotics busts. If things go sideways, it might go bad. I'll figure out tomorrow how we can help things not go bad." He wraps himself around me one last time and sinks the 9-ball with such force I wonder how the cue doesn't crack.

I turn, taking the stick from him, setting it behind us on the table. He's breathing hard, looking at me. "Are you through playing the angles?" I ask, realizing that I'm breathing hard as well.

He grabs me by my hips, pressing me into him. "Yeah, I'm through playing," he kisses me, pulling my head back softly by my hair. "Let's get out of here," his eyes are molten. All I can manage to do is nod.


	4. jump

[_*open with Evie*_]

"Bobby," I call his name, no response – just snoring. His large frame practically covers the entirety of my bed. He's spread eagle, face down with my quilt tangled across his back, intertwined in his legs. Much like I was just an hour ago. "Bobby." I call him again, his phone is ringing. "Bobby!"

"Huh, wha?" He rolls over slowly. I swear I don't know anyone who can fall asleep faster or sleep more deeply than Bobby Goren.

"Phone." I smile as I throw his cell phone at him. He clumsily catches the device and answers the call.

"Goren," he grunts into the phone. "Yeah, yeah, got it. 30." He clicks it closed.

"Seconds or minutes?" I ask.

"What?" He's rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He doesn't exactly wake up quickly.

"You said – 30."

"Minutes. I've gotta be into the squad in 30 minutes." He throws his forearm over his eyes, and I can tell by the change in breathing that he's falling back asleep.

"I was going to get in the shower," I say. I think he hasn't heard me, but just as the water gets hot he follows me under the water.

* * *

[*_switch to Bobby_*]

"Look Lieu, we can't let these homicide guys run around undercover making drug busts." Bobby's standing in front of his superior officer, trying his best to keep his temper in check.

"Why's that? We don't have enough of our own cases to keep us busy?" The Lieutenant barks back, not able to hold his temper.

"It's our bust," Bobby replies, running his hand along the back of his neck.

"Actually, it's _their_ bust, I just got the phone call ripping me a new one, telling me all about it." The Lieutenant makes a grandiose gesture toward the phone as he glares at Bobby.

"What?" Bobby's stalling, experiencing a minor processing delay that the Minaya case was just formally taken away.

"All that salsa dancing screw with your English – it's _their bust_… comprende?" And just like that, the Lieu's words reveal that he knows exactly what Bobby's been up to for the past 72 hours.

"Yeah, comprende." Bobby's mumbling the words to himself as he strides out of the office before his head explodes.

"What was that?" It's Ruiz doing the talking, following Bobby toward the stairwell.

"That was the Lieu handing me my ass and handing the Minaya case to Quinn and Dutton."

"Where're you going?" Ruiz huffs, he's out of breath from chasing after Bobby.

"I've no fucking clue," Bobby bites out the retort, heading outside. "Back to bed?" He thinks of Evie - the flush of her smooth skin in the hot shower that morning.

"Seriously?" Ruiz asks.

"No," Out of frustration, Bobby scratches his hand through his hair. He shakes the erotic image of Evie out of his head, "I'm going to see Quinn and Dutton - see if they need any back up," he fishes in his pocket for his keys.

"Wait man, I'm in," Ruiz's following after Bobby, but then he lingers outside the car as Bobby slides into the driver's seat.

"Well, then get the hell in."

* * *

"Listen Quinn, I get that you've got Moran on your back to make this bust quick," Bobby's exasperation is bleeding through in his tone.

"If you get that, why are you here?" Quinn is stuffing a hot dog into his mouth as he stands near a street cart.

"We've got your back on this, if you want," Bobby breathes in deeply, trying to rein it back a notch.

"You've got our back?" Thoughtfully, Quinn continues to eat his hot dog, but his tone is a bit defensive.

"Yeah - we know the case, we know Minaya," Bobby offers.

"But you don't know the set up."

"Not too hard, you've got Dutton in place as a buyer. When he makes the buy, you make the bust." Ruiz steps in and takes the conversation from Bobby. "We can help you out on this - let us help you out on this."

"I don't know. Sometimes help isn't really all that helpful," Quinn looks at them skeptically, causing Bobby's patience to slip.

"We'll be there for back up. You call the shots," Ruiz again steps in with a politically appropriate reply.

"Lemme check with Joe," Quinn replies, referring to Dutton.

"Sure thing," Ruiz smiles smoothly. "When's the buy?"

"Tonight," Quinn has finished his hot dog and starts walking down the block back towards his precinct house.

"So where's Dutton?" Bobby's frustration gets the better of him as he hijacks the conversation back away from Ruiz.

"Look we have this covered," Quinn immediately gets defensive.

"And we've got your back," Ruiz counters. "Just your back, not the bust."

"Give me a few hours," Quinn glances at his watch. "I'll call you with the details."

* * *

Bobby's phone and Ruiz's phone ring at the same time. Ruiz quickly answers the phone call from Quinn, jotting down the time frame and location of the Minaya bust.

On the fourth ring, right before it rolls into voice mail, Bobby glances at the caller id and answers his phone - "Yeah mom?" Bobby neutralizes his tone as he says the words.

"Bobby?" she replies, which frustrates him. She dialed his number, he answered the phone calling her "mom", and she knows his voice. Her scattered reply is not a good sign.

"Yeah, it's me – Bobby," he confirms.

"I need to get a hold of your brother."

"What? Why?" Bobby hasn't talked with his brother in a few months.

"I just need to get a hold of your brother, do you know how to reach him?"

"Mom, what's going on?"

"Why do you have to be so difficult? You're always so short with me. Not like Frank, he's always so nice and helpful."

"Mom, why do you need to get a hold of Frank?"

"There's this mix up, I just need your brother."

"Mix-up?" Bobby switches the phone to his other ear as he strides across the squad room for a more private space.

"Frank's been helping me with my rent."

"Helping you?" Bobby gulps down the burn of stress rising in his chest.

"Well, he's been handling my bills for me, taking care of me."

"Mom…" Bobby closes his eyes.

"And my super, he says he's gonna throw me out if I don't pay, and Frank – you know, he's paid. There must be some mix-up."

Bobby tries for a deep breath, his pulse is pounding in his head, his eyes are still closed. He knows Frank hasn't paid. He knows Frank has been taking their mother's money and shooting it up his arm.

"How many months mom?"

"How many months what?"

"How many months has Frank been helping you?"

"Not many." Her reply is evasive. "I need to get a hold of Frank by 7:00 today," she continues.

"Why?" Bobby asks, but he doesn't know why he bothers with the question, he knows the answer, so when his question is greated by his mother's silence, he fills in the blanks, "is that when your landlord is coming by for payment?"

"I just need Frank," she says.

"I'll take care of it. By 7:00," Bobby replies, knowing that he's going to have to track down his mother's landlord by 7:00 before he finds a way to evict her. He glances at his watch. That gives him just over an hour.

"Good, you'll find Frank for me?" Her voice is hopeful.

"I'll take care of it." Bobby says before hanging up the phone. He walks back toward his desk.

"What's up?" Ruiz asks.

"I gotta take care of something – with my, um…" he doesn't want to say it – "Look, I'll hook up with you by 9:00." Bobby is practically pulsating with frustration. He's having a tough time balancing the job with his mother. He's hates it when everything jumps at once. He figures if he plays it right, he can handle his mom and still make the bust on Minaya.

"That's cutting it tight," Ruiz shakes his head a bit.

"Yeah, I know. 9:00," Bobby calls over his shoulder as he hits the stairwell, heading toward his mother's building.


	5. officer down

I get the phone call just before midnight, the one that stops my heart. It's from my friend Felicia. I can hear club music in the background.

"Evie?" She shouts into the phone.

"Yeah, Felicia, you okay?" I've got no clue as to why she's calling me out of the blue from the club.

"Are you okay?" She turns it around and asks me, which makes my breath feel a little shallow.

"Whaddya mean?" I ask, my voice quavering a bit.

"It's all over the club, honey. I thought you… um…" Felicia starts to trail off.

"What? What's all over the club?"

"Minaya was busted tonight, an undercover cop was shot as part of the bust," she offers. She is the only one of my friends that knows about Bobby's job.

"What?" I can't quite accept what she's saying. I haven't heard from Bobby since he left my place this morning. I don't think he's done much undercover stuff. He sets up things; he's not usually the undercover guy. But this Minaya bust, it's been taking up a lot of his time. I'm wriggling back into the skirt and sweater I just discarded onto my floor.

"The undercover guy was a big guy, a narco guy," Felicia provides. I'm pulling on the boots that were with my pile of clothes on the floor. "Honey, Evie, I'm coming over," I can hear the music softening in the background.

"I'm not going to be here," I reply, "I'm headed to the hospital," I say and realize I've got no idea what hospital – so I ask Felicia, and she tells me where she heard they took the cop who was shot.

* * *

As I come around to th e ER entrance, I know by the number of police officers that I'm in the right place. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. I've tried calling Bobby 3 times and every time it rolls straight into voice mail. My friend Felicia's words are eating away at my ability to think rationally – _narco guy_, _big guy_. I scan the crowd of officers as if I'm going to find a familiar face. I realize I've stopped walking. I am simply standing on the edge of things, hands shaking so hard I've balled them into fists.

It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, by I see Ruiz standing nearby. He's with who I think must be his wife. She's crying and touching his face. He has blood on his clothes, bright red underneath the harsh outside lamps of the ER entrance. I think that's not his blood - if it was his blood he wouldn't be standing outside with his wife. I can see Ruiz mouthing the words over and over, _I'm okay_, _I'm okay_. He's trying to convince his wife. I take a step backward, a sudden fierce desire to run away. Maybe if I were to run away, this would turn out not to be real.

"Evie," someone grabs me from behind, their palms on my shoulders. I jump and slump all at the same time. It's Barnes. "Where's Bobby?" He asks, and I start shaking all over. Barnes swivels me in his grasp to look at me. "Where's Bobby?" he asks, looking at me, looking at the crowd.

"Weren't you there?" I croak.

"No, Ruiz was there, Ruiz was with him, I got the call, officer down…" Barnes mumbles, his eyes finding Ruiz. "I'll be right back," Barnes lets me go and I almost fall to the ground. I watch him stride over to Ruiz. Barnes is gesturing inside the ER, I can see him go pale. I feel it inside of me, Bobby is the officer down – _narco guy_, _big guy_. I turn away from the crowd of cops and look up the block. _Officer down_.

"Evie," hands clamp again onto my shoulders from behind. I'm so numb I can barely hear the voice. Panic is gripping me like a vice. "Evie," whoever's got me turns me in their arms. I'm not looking at who it is, my eyes are closed. I feel faint, I feel sick. "Evie," someone's touching my face, fingertips on my face. I open my eyes. I feel the color drain from my face as if I'm looking at a ghost. It's Bobby. He's got me, he's holding onto me, he's keeping me from crumpling to the cement.

I reach out and touch his face, the harsh stubble of a day's beard underneath my hand. "Bobby," no sound comes out; I just barely form his name. He holds me in his gaze for a moment, and before I can stop myself I'm frantically tearing open his coat, looking at his shirt, my hands running over his chest, across his body. _Officer down_, I think. I'm looking for blood.

"What're you doing here?" He asks, watching my assault on him with confusion in his eyes.

"Felicia, she called me from the club, she said an undercover guy was shot – narco guy, big guy," I say, both my hands coming to rest in the middle of his chest, feeling his heart's quick rhythm.

"Not me, Officer Dutton, Joe Dutton. Not narco. Not big." He places his hands over mine. I still feel sick. But now I feel sick because I'm washed with relief that it's not Bobby. And that's all mixed up with the fact that someone else was shot, and there's some other woman standing some place feeling the way I was just feeling.

"I um," I stammer, "I thought it was you." I've no idea that I'm crying until he gently wipes the tears from my face with the heel of his left hand.

"I had to take care of something, my mom, Frank – well, there was this rent thing. And, then when I got there she had flooded the place scrubbing the floors," it's his turn to stammer, as he stumbles over an explanation that I don't quite understand. His mom is ill, he's mentioned that. His brother's a drug addict, he's mentioned that as well. So I put together his brother's probably somehow stolen his mother's rent. And since his mother's mental illness, as kind of a stress reaction she's probably dumped gallons of water and cleaner onto floors that were already clean. I feel rational thought restoring itself in my brain. _Officer down, not Bobby_. My breathing is returning to normal.

"Not you," I say, one more time.

"Not me, I wasn't even there," he adds, in such a way that I look at him more closely. I reach up and touch his face, I see it all over him, I see what he's thinking, what he's feeling. He said – _not me_, _I wasn't even there_, but his insides are screaming – _should've been there_, _should've been me_.

/end


End file.
